


A Professional Interest

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Series: A Matter of Interest [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Developing Relationship, Don't copy to another site, Episode Related, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Tense, Season/Series 16, Secret Relationship, Shaving, Suit Kink, catching feelings, implied exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: A cool breeze on a sticky, humid afternoon. The kind that wakes you from a heat-induced stupor and fills your lungs with sweet, welcome relief.That was what it felt like when Rafael Barba met Detective Dominick Carisi for the first time.[The events leading up to and beyond ‘A Vested Interest’ from Rafael’s point of view.]





	A Professional Interest

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't resist continuing this series, there was so much in my head that didn't come out when I wrote _A Vested Interest._ This story goes from their first meeting up through the events of 16x6 **Glasgowman's Wrath**.

A cool breeze on a sticky, humid afternoon. The kind that woke you from a heat-induced stupor and filled your lungs with sweet, welcome relief. 

That was what it felt like when Rafael Barba met Detective Dominick Carisi for the first time. He walked into the Special Victims’ squadroom that day carrying the same weight on his shoulders that had been weighing him down for the last thirteen months, nothing to indicate that this would be anything other than a routine visit to consult on their latest far-from-prosecutable case. With Amaro busted down to patrol for the time being, at least Rafael wouldn’t be subjected to the man’s often frosty attitude towards him, but taking up Amaro’s usual space was a tall, mustached, breath of fresh air and, for a moment, Rafael had no idea how to react.

It was only a matter of seconds before Rafael pulled himself together, hopefully before anyone noticed his slip, and brushed past SVU’s newest addition on his way to Benson’s office. 

Twenty minutes later when Benson officially introduced them, Rafael couldn’t help but note the enthusiasm Carisi put into a simple handshake, as if meeting the squad’s ADA was a rare privilege instead of common courtesy. There was something in the Sergeant’s voice that he later recognized as disappointment—obviously Carisi wasn’t the kind of detective Benson pictured when she requested additional help. However, where Benson saw a lack of experience, Rafael saw a lack of baggage and, unlike the rest of the squad, he saw that for the blessing it could be.

Over the course of that first investigation, Rafael worked with Carisi a number of times. It was obvious that the squad was keeping the Staten Island native at arm’s length. Could have been a defense mechanism in case Carisi’s time in Manhattan, like all those other boroughs (Olivia filled him in over dinner last week), was limited. He’d seen similar situations when he worked in Brooklyn where a squad was unwelcome to outsiders. In the case of Manhattan SVU, Rafael imagined they were too tight-knit, bonded through extraordinary adversity, to accept someone as _franco_ and seemingly unburdened as Dominick Carisi Jr. in their midst.

It wasn’t like that for Rafael. In Carisi, he found a fresh start. The junior detective didn’t look at him with pity in his eyes, seeing the failures for which he had yet to forgive himself. There had been times over the last year when Amaro or Rollins looked at him that sent Rafael reeling back to the day when William Lewis walked out of the courthouse a free man, only to turn their whole world upside down. Though Lewis was dead and gone, the guilt remained crushing at times; Rafael felt as if the squad saw him differently these days. 

Carisi had the opposite effect. He wasn’t waiting for Rafael to complete his self-imposed penance to make up for what happened to Olivia and Lewis’ other victims. 

With no history between them, Rafael found new purpose in his job, walking into SVU with a smile on his face knowing with certainty that there was someone in the squad who wanted to be around him, who didn’t see Rafael as the adversary. Of course, Carisi wasn’t perfect. At times, his eagerness bordered on obnoxiousness and his mouth was often miles ahead of his mind, yet Rafael remained interested. He disguised it with professional criticism and advice, his sneers fleeting and his dismissals given gently albeit delivered with his signature sarcasm lest anyone see what he was really thinking. His interactions with Carisi—whether at the precinct, in his office, or at the courthouse—distracted Rafael from the hits he’d taken over the last year. Lewis, Muñoz, Eddie, Amaro. They’d all left bruises under Rafael’s skin, left him aching and vulnerable.

When he realized he could go home and not immediately reach for the closest bottle of scotch, Rafael knew he needed to make sure Carisi stayed in Manhattan. There was only so much he could say to Olivia on the detective’s behalf without revealing himself, therefore Rafael needed to think creatively.

It came to him while he was discreetly watching Carisi from inside Benson’s office, going over a casefile while the Sergeant and Fin talked at her desk. Through the slatted blinds, he watched Carisi breeze into the squadroom and take off his suit jacket. It was well made yet too boxy for Carisi’s lean frame, and the dark shade of blue didn’t work with the dizzying, multicolored pattern on his tie.

This Rafael knew. Detective Carisi deserved the benefit of his sartorial expertise, and if a few surface changes helped the squad and their victims take him more seriously, let them see that Carisi’s unique approach had merit, then it was a win-win.

The next time Carisi visited 1 Hogan Place with important files in his hands, Rafael took a chance. He opened with, “I was just about to order lunch.”

Carisi blinked. “Need me to get out of your hair?”

“Actually I thought you could stay and help me make sense of these notes. Usually I need a handwriting expert to parse out Rollins’ reports. Fin’s aren’t much easier.”

Moving to hang his coat on the hall tree, Carisi asked, “What are we having?”

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting side by side at the table, two half-eaten Italians wrapped in deli paper and multiple files spread out all around them. The work was a ruse, for the most part, yet Rafael found that he and Carisi were able to accomplish a decent amount. Rafael’s eyes were drawn to Carisi’s mouth when he talked; not even the inexplicable moustache could take away from Carisi’s full, pink lips, and Rafael’s imagination ran wild at what the detective would look like without it.

“This was surprisingly helpful, Detective,” Rafael offered when Carisi was eventually summoned back to the precinct. “Thank you.”

“You could call me Sonny.”

“I could.”

Carisi shrugged. “One thing at a time, I guess. Thanks for lunch, Counselor.”

After that, Carisi showed up for lunch more often. Other members of the squad joined them when an investigation hit a critical point, but Rafael looked forward to the afternoons when it was just him and Carisi. It took little to entice the detective into a conversation, whether it was discussing case law that came up in one of his Fordham classes or precedents for Rafael’s upcoming motion. He was insightful and often correct, not that Rafael let compliments or praise slip easily, afraid that Carisi would stop trying to one-up him if he was too generous.

Lunches became working dinners, both in and out of the office. Then, late one Friday afternoon, Rafael asked Carisi to bring interrogation transcripts to his tailor’s shop instead of his office. Carisi hovered while Rafael discussed a new suit, watching from the corner of his eye as the detective looked at vests, those slim, captivating fingers drifting over silk ties—the kind Rafael would consider buying for himself.

“Try one on,” Rafael encouraged, his tailor winking at him when Carisi was turned the other way. 

“You got something to say about my wardrobe, Counselor?” Carisi asked with an effortless grin.

Rafael smirked. “More than one. Humor me.”

This wasn’t a makeover or a scene from a romantic comedy; Rafael only wanted Carisi to see what was possible, that his body was meant for more than ill-fitting suits and ties that were probably passed down from his father.

Under the tailor’s guidance, Carisi tried on four vests and nearly a dozen neckties. Rafael was there with input on colors and a casual hand to check the fit of each vest across Carisi’s back. He settled on vests that would match his two favorite suits and a pair of narrow ties, one a rich aubergine and the other black with small white diamonds, all sold at a significant discount thanks to Rafael’s ongoing patronage of the shop. And if a third tie, compliments of the prosecutor’s account, also happened to make it into the bag—gray with swirls of cobalt that reminded Rafael of Carisi’s eyes—well, Carisi could take that up with him some other time.

The following week, Rafael walked into the precinct and saw Carisi wearing the blue tie. Their eyes met across the table while Benson gave the rundown on their suspect.

No one spoke for a moment and Rafael realized they were waiting for him to chime in. Shifting his expression from fascination into one of calculated disinterest, he said, “I’ll take care of the warrants for his home and computer, but stay on him.”

Benson nodded. “Good. Carisi, go with him.”

“Sure thing, Sarge.” Carisi stood and followed Rafael out of the squadroom, grabbing his coat from the back of his desk chair. By some miracle, they ended up alone in the elevator. “Can I buy you lunch on the way, Counselor?”

Rafael took in his smile, the sincerity of the offer, and the way Carisi’s tie made his eyes look like a summer sky. “What did you have in mind?”

“Thai?”

Rafael tried not to laugh, but he felt the heat in his cheeks when he glanced back at Carisi. “You read my mind.”

He met Olivia for dinner later that night after the warrant had been served and their suspicions confirmed. Plates of fish and sautéed vegetables in front of them, Olivia switched topics.

“What’s your impression of Carisi? Professionally speaking,” she added before taking a sip of her Cabernet.

“He’s...unique,” Rafael said after giving it a moment’s thought to ensure none of his less-than-professional opinions slipped off his tongue. “Not exactly the kind of detective I expected to see in the squad, but he’s capable. Hard-working, insightful, and he certainly has a better handle on the legalities of police procedure than most detectives.”

Olivia took another generous sip. “He’s settling in. And you’re right, he wasn’t what I asked for, although he’s not as green as I thought.”

“No one’s asking for transfer papers, then?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what those other boroughs were thinking, letting him go.”

“Their loss, your gain. Sounds as if Carisi landed in the right spot. He gets to learn from the best.”

Olivia smiled, satisfied, and the topic was dropped when she received a text from her babysitter.

After that conversation, it was difficult for Rafael to solely claim a professional interest in Carisi. The detective was on his way to becoming an integral part of SVU—his objective from the beginning—and no longer under threat of being transferred. Rafael figured that was the end of his involvement, but to his surprise, Carisi continued to take him up on his offers of lunch and dinner away from the job.

They discussed cases, old and new, over a glass of scotch and one of the beers Rafael began keeping in his office fridge. He didn’t mind listening to Carisi talking about law school or answering the inevitable questions that came up along the way. Carisi welcomed his advice, soaked it up like a sponge, and always left Rafael with a smile on his face.

It occurred to Rafael around that time that his attraction to Detective Carisi wasn’t going away. If anything, it grew stronger by the day (despite the moustache). All it took was seeing one of the notes Carisi left stuck to his files—thoughts and ideas he never got around to mentioning—and Rafael would think about Carisi’s wide stance, the casual strut in his walk, and the way he’d duck his chin and smile at Rafael from across the table when they agreed on a point.

It also occurred to Rafael, then, that there was a chance his feelings were reciprocated.

There was no way Rafael could afford any serious attachments, but there was something about Carisi that made him feel _good_. Whole and content. He enjoyed going out with the squad again, meeting for dinner at Forlini’s after a satisfying plea agreement, toasting a job well done when a confession sealed the deal. Finding those connections after months of feeling adrift from SVU, and Rafael wasn’t sure if he could throw that away for the chance to hook up with Detective Carisi.

One night, on the sidewalk outside Olivia’s apartment, the decision was taken out of Rafael’s hands.

He was waiting for his Uber, Carisi beside him wrapping up a story he started telling in the elevator on their way down, and watching the expressions cross Carisi’s face. The breath caught in Rafael’s lungs, his chest ached; the entire picture was so delightful, he couldn’t stop his smile from spreading.

Next thing he knew, Carisi leaned over and kissed him. A single, determined press of lips. Rafael felt Carisi’s hand on the inward curve of his lower back. Not to hold him in place, but simply to enjoy the closeness.

When it ended, Rafael missed that gentle touch.

“I’m so sorry,” Carisi was already apologizing, though it was the last thing Rafael wanted to hear.

“Why now?”

Carisi stayed close, words barely rising above a whisper there on the unusually quiet sidewalk. “I just—you looked happy. I’ve never seen you smile like that, and when you looked at me, I guess I couldn’t help myself.”

Desire rose in Rafael’s chest. He wanted to lay it all bare, confess in the wake of Carisi’s honesty, but it was too dangerous. Instead, he drew Carisi back in, let their mouths pass together slowly, deliberately, and opened for their second kiss.

For the first time in months, maybe years, Rafael Barba was happy all the way through.

It took a week before they were in the same room again. A week where Rafael had done his best to talk himself out of pursuing whatever was happening between them. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to see what made Carisi throw caution to the wind. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance—still the same forty-something prosecutor with gray at his temples and lines around his mouth—until he thought back to the kiss on the sidewalk. Pictured the way Carisi lit up with a joy that was contagious. Rafael smiled, then, and he saw the way it transformed his face. Wide and honest and rare, it made his eyes crinkle at the corners and his cheeks hurt from the pull.

If Carisi had seen that, he already knew too much.

Rafael was determined not to let anything else happen, but when he came face to face with the detective in his office, his resolve crumbled in the face of Carisi’s sincerity and enthusiasm.

“If I was out of line the other night—”

“Don’t do that, Carisi. Don’t say you’re sorry again.”

“Why not?” He was waiting for an answer Rafael couldn’t give him. Showing experience beyond his years, Carisi figured it out regardless. “You don’t want me to be sorry. Good, ‘cause I’m not, but if you need to tell me we can’t do this, you’ve gotta do it here and now, ‘cause I don’t think—”

Rafael was weak. He kissed Carisi in part to shut him up and in part because he felt compelled. He couldn’t find the words to tell the detective they couldn’t—that they absolutely _shouldn’t_ —because he absolutely wanted to keep chasing the happiness he felt when they were together.

Outwardly, nothing appeared to change. They met for lunch when it wouldn’t seem suspicious (the squad had already made Carisi their point-man when it came to delivering news to the ADA’s office), a dinner here and there when they needed to work late or Carisi volunteered to help him with a case between night classes. It was nearly impossible to steal more than a few minutes together that weren’t about their respective jobs, yet those moments made up for the days and weeks when work kept them apart, even if they didn’t do more than talk, enjoying one another’s company.

It was all Rafael had to offer. He’d always given too much to his job, too little to his increasingly infrequent lovers, and that wasn’t a combination any sane person would seek out. So either Carisi wasn’t entirely sane or he saw something in Rafael no one else did.

To his hidden delight, Carisi went out and bought himself some new shirts, favoring the slimmer, tailored styles Rafael had suggested. He looked to Rafael for approval, silent nods and a warm gaze given across the room when they couldn’t risk saying anything else. And he did approve, now being able to see the lines of Carisi’s body when he moved around without his jacket. His suits were still an issue—unflattering for a man with his lean build—but Rafael was fine tackling one thing at a time.

“What have you done to Carisi?”

Rafael looked at Olivia from his place on her office sofa. “Excuse me?”

“The outfits, the _legalese_ ,” she teased, “don’t tell me you haven’t had a hand in any of that.”

“I may have offered one or two suggestions.”

Olivia smiled. “He admires you.”

“He admires you, too, Sergeant.” Rafael tucked his phone away in his jacket and stood.

“I’m not the one giving him fashion advice.”

“It’s pro-bono work.” He aimed for teasing until he saw the contemplative expression on her face. Rafael chose his next words carefully. “He’s easy to be around, despite his _endless_ energy, and I found myself willing to provide guidance.”

“This job is full of surprises, Rafael.”

He wondered if Olivia had some inkling of how he truly felt—she was one hell of a investigator—but put it out of his mind. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing yet for her to know.

Dinners with Carisi turned into late night work-slash-study sessions. Eventually, there was more talking than working, followed by more moaning than talking. When Carisi kissed him, Rafael let everything else fade away, grounding himself in those moments so he wouldn’t forget them when they were gone. 

It had no name, whatever was happening between them. They kept it casual: a ‘when they could,’ not ‘every chance they got.’ It skimmed the surface of what Rafael desired and knew he couldn’t have, yet it was enough to sustain him throughout some of the more sinister and complicated cases that landed on his desk.

Tonight, Rafael and Carisi were the last two at Forlini’s after the others went their separate ways. It wasn’t late, and Rafael was content to work there at the bar with Carisi immersed in his own books beside him, like a scene from some domestic fantasy Rafael never imagined living out.

“I think I oughta shave.” Carisi was stroking the side of his face, one finger scratching the moustache Rafael was beginning to tolerate. It helped that the detective kept it clean and soft, smelling like the aloe and cucumber moisturizer he used.

“Really, Detective? What brings this on, besides common sense?”

Carisi side-eyes him. “You know, we’re not at work. You should call me Sonny.”

“One thing at a time, _Carisi_.” Rafael shot him a grin. “Back to that thought you were having…”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, Fin cracks jokes—nothing bad, just telling me how to style it—but there are people who kind of stare. Feels like it’s wearing me, not the other way around. What do you think?”

Rafael considered carefully. He didn’t want to genuinely insult Carisi; it was obvious the man caught his attention no matter what was going on above his lip.

“I think that if you want a change, I know just the place.”

Carisi promised to think about it overnight. Rafael was already making plans, though, not anticipating a change of heart from the detective.

Two nights later, they ended up at Rafael’s favorite barber shop where Antoni, who’d been running the place for over twenty years, and Carisi immediately hit it off. Rafael was forced to intercede before they could trace their family trees back six generations to find a common ancestor back in Italy.

“Give him the works, Antoni. My treat.”

Carisi sputtered nonsense about not needing Rafael to pay for anything, which he then cut off with a sharp, “ _Dios mío_ , let me do this. I want to.”

The detective’s smile warned Rafael he’d said too much, but he happily let Antoni lead him to a chair, relaxing while Rafael looked on.

The chatter occasionally lapsed into half-decent Italian while Antoni used an electric razor to remove the bulk of Carisi’s moustache before preparing his skin with lotion and a warm towel. Antoni applied the shaving cream with a soft, round brush, and the detective knew better than to keep talking when the barber got down to business. The flick and scrape of the straight-edged razor was soothing, but nothing could distract Rafael from the scene in front of him. He’d watched porn that didn’t turn him on as much as seeing Carisi’s pale skin exposed inch by inch and the way his lips were suddenly the prominent feature on his face, flush and pink with nothing to overshadow them.

Rafael debated asking for his own smock before deciding it would give him away.

He barely sat still in his chair while Antoni finished up, taking a few minutes to trim the back and sides of Carisi’s hair before he let the detective stand up.

“You’re a miracle worker, Antoni,” Carisi said, checking out his reflection. “Thank you, sir.”

It took nothing more than a discreet tilt of Rafael’s head for Antoni to disappear into the back of his otherwise empty shop.

“Subtle, Counselor.”

Rafael would normally tell Carisi to shut up, but he was too busy hauling him close, one hand on his cheek to soak up the warmth from his clean, smooth skin. Carisi’s arms circled his waist, swaying into his hold like waves against the shore on a calm day. The expression on his face was serene and Rafael questioned whether or not he was truly seeing it.

“I look good, then?”

“Are you fishing?”

Carisi’s smile grew. The effect it had on Rafael was devastating. What the hell had he been thinking?

“A guy’s not supposed to enjoy a compliment now and then?”

Rafael conceded, his hand cupping Carisi’s face. “It suits you.”

“Was that so hard?” Carisi asked, drawing closer so those rosy lips were hovering over his.

“Excruciating.” He felt Carisi’s amusement as a puff of breath against his own lips, a prelude to one of the most consummate, tender kisses he’d ever known. Searching and delicate as if it was their first, turning thorough and profound as if they’d done this a thousand times.

At the point Carisi’s tongue was sliding back and forth behind Rafael’s teeth, their bodies coming together in the middle of the barber shop, Rafael dragged himself away before their embrace morphed into a misdemeanor. All it took was a whisper in the detective’s ear before they walked out of the shop, elbow to elbow, leaving a generous tip for Antoni by the register.

They found themselves at Carisi’s apartment less than an hour later. The tension built like white noise over the course of a brief cafe meal and the car ride that brought them here; it got louder and louder until it roared in Rafael’s ears and couldn’t be ignored. Rafael, usually skilled at compartmentalizing—keeping a lid on the emotions that swirled beneath the surface—found himself boiling over. He couldn’t stop kissing Carisi, obsessed with the curve of his upper lip and the velvety skin above. He kept his eyes closed, afraid Carisi would be able to read how affected he was if Rafael gave him the chance.

They went further than ever that night. Rafael savored Carisi spread out on his back, fully naked, a sight for which the saints would weep. He was lean with flowing lines and smooth angles, pale skin over strong bones. He responded to every touch, refused to take his hands off Rafael for even a moment as he was coaxed to orgasm by Rafael’s sure fingers.

Rafael, still fixated hours after they left Antoni’s, didn’t stop kissing Carisi as the detective crested and came. Long, slow sweeps of tongue and hints of teeth, an edge of obsession in the way he all but possessed Carisi’s mouth. Feeling his ecstasy through that connection left Rafael harder and more desperate than he could remember being in years. He was inflamed; Carisi could have undone him with a single touch.

The detective had other plans, toppling Rafael back onto the couch and kneeling between his legs. Unlike Carisi, he was mostly clothed (though his tie was lost somewhere in the chaos of the apartment), and Carisi wasted no time undoing his pants to get at the hard, wanting flesh beneath.

Rafael couldn’t speak—this had yet to happen in any of their encounters, sticking to hastier thrills. The pleasure of Carisi’s mouth around him was a revelation. He came quickly and violently, hips bucking up though Carisi’s hands remained strong and pinned him in place.

Neither of them brought up the idea of staying the night. There was a moment between Carisi kissing Rafael’s throat where his shirt parted and moving effortlessly around each other to collect their phones, shoes, and all of Carisi’s clothes when Rafael considered bringing it up or leading Carisi in the right direction so he would offer.

Instead, he left Carisi at his door with another kiss and ordered a car to pick him up. He replayed the night’s events on a loop in his mind as he rode in the sedan, jazz on the driver’s radio. Rafael knew he was in trouble but, like any proper defendant, he denied, denied, denied in the face of the evidence.

He denied it into the following week when motions and trial preparations and negotiating amongst his bosses, defense attorneys, and the NYPD kept him too busy to dwell on the detective. Using avoidance as a tactic only got Rafael so far, and Carisi remained in his periphery no matter what, sending a text every so often or calling his office when one of SVU’s cases needed an ADA’s point of view.

Rafael wasn’t safe around Olivia, either.

They were grabbing an early breakfast when she casually dropped, “Amaro came back to SVU yesterday,” into the conversation as she speared a piece of cantaloupe.

Rafael keeps his gaze on his spinach omelette. “I might’ve heard something about that. You think he’s ready?”

“I do, and we’re still shorthanded. I need him. I’ve got him working with Carisi on the Tensley Evans investigation. Maybe he’ll learn a thing or two.”

“Who, Carisi? Or Amaro?”

Olivia grinned. “Both.”

The Sergeant might be able to pretend she was still on the fence about Sonny Carisi but Rafael could see she was attached. His eagerness and lack of cynicism fit well in the experienced squad. Nick Amaro could pose a problem, though. _Resentido como siempre_ , that one. Rafael could picture him posturing in front of the new guy, turning assignments into a competition as if he perceived Carisi as a threat, though Rafael had no doubt Carisi would win him over.

Sensing that Olivia would read too much into his silence, Rafael switched the topic to Noah and tried to ignore the stirring in his stomach.

The Tensley Evans’ investigation brought Rafael to SVU almost daily, whether it was a briefing in Benson’s office or a strategy session with the entire squad. Carisi was always there, a temptation wearing one of his new shirts or ties, and Rafael distracted himself with coffee and caramels he stole from Olivia’s desk so he wouldn’t salivate in front of the others. More than once, Rafael had been about to leave when he heard Carisi’s voice. Like a hook, it pulled him back.

He watched Carisi with the rest of the squad, saw how hungry he was to prove himself and show that he put in the work. Rafael wondered if that need had anything to do with Amaro’s return to duty, if Carisi feared that his place at Manhattan SVU was in jeopardy. He tried to reassure Carisi with encouraging looks and a willing ear, but he could only do so much when the others were around.

A week later, after that slimy piece of Hollywood filth was transferred to federal custody, Carisi was temporarily paired with a veteran SVU detective while her partner was out with the flu. It gave Rafael one less thing to worry about while the rest of Benson’s squad was involved in the manhunt for Holden March.

That Friday morning, after wrapping up a pretrial motion hearing, Rafael was taken aback to find Carisi waiting for him outside the courtroom. He was about to smile and ask to what did he owe the pleasure when he noticed Carisi’s appearance. Gone were the poorly tailored trousers, fabric swimming around his long legs and lean hips, and ill-fitting jackets. In their place, Rafael saw black slacks that accentuated his enviable build and a matching jacket that showed off his narrow waist and perfect shoulders. Finished with a pale blue shirt and the gray tie Rafael gave him, the effect was understated yet stunning.

Rafael’s blood began to race in a way it hadn’t during the perfunctory hearing.

“Counselor?”

That voice snapped him out of his daze. “If you’re here to ask about Jackson Meyers, tell Montero I don’t have anything yet. His attorney is stalling at every opportunity.” Rafael barely spared Carisi a second glance as he stepped away, afraid of finding himself tongue-tied in the crowded hallway and damaging his professional reputation.

Carisi followed. “I figured. Actually, Montero wanted me to bring these by. We interviewed a few more of Meyers’ neighbors—they were out of town, remember?”

“I have a vague recollection.”

They turned a corner and found themselves in an empty hallway leading to several small conference rooms the ADAs could use while they were in the building. 

“New suit?” Rafael asked, attempting to keep his voice flat.

Carisi shook his head and smiled. “Old suit. I took a few of my better ones to my dad’s tailor back on Staten Island and he’s gonna refit them for me, like you suggested. This is the first one he finished. What do you think?” He spun around in the middle of the hallway. “Does it work?”

Rafael’s answer was to check in both directions before pushing Carisi into the nearest conference room—empty, _afortunadamente_ —with one hand pressed to the center of his chest.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Carisi said before Rafael’s lips were on his.

With only a locked door between them and the various lawyers, defendants, witnesses, and jurors crowding the courthouse on a Friday afternoon, Rafael got down on his knees and worshipped the sight of Carisi in that black suit. His eyes were turned up, holding Carisi’s blue gaze prisoner, and his hands never stopped admiring the feel of Carisi’s hips and stomach. For once, the detective was quiet, holding his moans and sighs behind his teeth. His hands were restless, fingers curling around the back of Rafael’s neck, begging for more than a tease of Rafael’s tongue, and threading through short hair as he tried to keep Rafael from taking him too deep and ending the pleasure too soon.

Ten minutes later, a healthily flushed Carisi was on his way to meet Detective Montero and Rafael was safely back in his office where he waited for regret to settle on his shoulders. Never in his career had he done anything as blatantly reckless as going down on Carisi like that, one frosted window away from being discovered.

But regret never came and Rafael couldn’t bring himself to feel shame when all he could think about was the way Carisi had pulled him up for a kiss as soon as his legs were steady enough and the light that shone in those sky blue eyes when Rafael held his hand and told him he could repay the favor later that night.

Turned out the favor would have to wait as Carisi and Montero were called out to a possible rape-homicide in the 18th precinct. Though the case didn’t turn out to be a matter for the Special Victims Unit, Rafael and Carisi were pulled in opposite directions until almost a week later when the squad caught the case of Evie Barnes.

The investigation and subsequent trial of Daniel Pryor left Rafael weary, drained from fighting through a tangle of emotions to keep a level head. From the horrific details of Evie Barnes’ assault to Benson all but forcing him to prosecute when the case barely had a leg to stand on, followed by Judge Briggs’ infuriating decision to set aside the jury’s guilty verdict and the heartbreaking denial of justice for the victim.

Throughout the case, Detective Carisi seemed indefatigable, always running new theories and strategies by Rafael or the squad. Behind the tireless facade, Rafael could see how the final result shook him; it was the first SVU case to hit him personally. Whatever frustration Rafael felt—by the end of the trial, it was staggering—he made an effort not to take it out on Carisi. Given time, the job might crush Carisi’s spirits, but Rafael was unwilling to rush it along. He listened to Carisi’s ideas, covering his concern with sarcasm and banter, and soaked up his support during the trial even when they couldn’t find time to talk or be alone.

It wasn’t until after the verdict was set aside and Rafael had more than five minutes to sit and think about something other than the case that he realized how much he missed the detective. The squad was down after the defeat—no one wanted to meet for drinks or dinner, even to vent. The ease of being with Carisi, something Rafael had failed to achieve with former partners, had blunted his jagged edges. He craved more of the warmth that filled his chest when they were together, which made it impossible for him to turn Carisi down when he came back from New Hampshire offering dinner and company, two things Rafael sorely needed.

Rafael allowed the tension and stress to slide off his shoulders over Caribbean fusion cuisine and listening to Carisi confess his appreciation for Rafael’s help over the last few months.

Those words left Rafael frozen. He’d set out to keep Carisi in Manhattan, building his case around the detective’s appearance, and Carisi’s gratitude meant that mission was now over. It was too abrupt, and he wasn’t at all prepared to let Carisi go.

Rafael couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, until he met Carisi’s earnest gaze across the table and understood that he wasn’t trying to end whatever was between them. The relief that followed had Rafael inviting the detective home, both of them laid bare in Rafael’s bed. He couldn’t let Carisi leave afterward; if the Rafael hadn’t been so easy for the detective to read, he might have been forced to beg.

The cost was Rafael’s honesty.

Willing to pay the price, he told Carisi it wouldn’t easy—confessing that _he_ wasn’t easy—yet it felt like the easiest thing in the world to run out for coffees when he woke early the next morning and when he let a freshly-showered Carisi leave with a kiss and that day’s crossword for the subway ride. 

It still felt easy a few nights later when Carisi showed up at Rafael’s door. The detective’s blue eyes were wild and roving, and he was looking for a distraction that came in the form of Rafael’s lips on Carisi’s chest and his hand stroking Carisi to completion. Giving himself over to Carisi was the easiest part of all, falling into his strong embrace, sure fingers teasing Rafael until he came.

Though their sexual appetites were filled for the moment, Carisi’s stomach was rumbling. Rafael didn’t ask before he left Carisi cleaning up in his en-suite and ordered more than enough food for two overworked civil servants. Relaxing with hibachi and sushi containers spread out on the coffee table, Carisi opened up about the squad’s latest case. Nothing had come across Rafael’s desk—the case bumped down to family court—but if Carisi needed to talk, he’d listen.

“There’s something going on between Rollins and Amaro,” Carisi was saying, and Rafael dragged his gaze away from the loosened sweep of hair that fell across Carisi’s forehead.

“Good catch, _detective_ ,” Rafael teased, stealing a fat piece of broccoli from the container of steak hibachi in front of Carisi and trying not to drop it on the collar of his shirt which he hadn’t bothered to rebutton.

Chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth—a distracting sight given those long fingers of his—Carisi’s grin wasn’t entirely carefree. “Feels like I’ve been dropped in the middle of something. Rollins backed me up, but I thought Amaro was gonna say something to the Sarge.”

“Amaro needs to prove that he can avoid confrontation. Picking fights is the last thing he should be doing.”

“Kinda feels like he’s got it out for me.”

“It’s not personal, not with you.” Rafael could recognize _personal conflict_ with Amaro; it looked a lot like the inside of an elevator, tempers rising. “Keep doing what’s right for the case and for the victim, and it’ll be fine. He’ll come around.”

“You’ve known him longer than I have. If this makes you uncomfortable—”

“I’m not talking to you as your ADA right now,” Rafael reminded him. He didn’t add that he’d grown closer to Carisi in a few months than he had in years with Amaro. There would always be a wall between Rafael and Nick, a familiarity that pushed them apart instead of pulling them together.

Carisi ducked his head, masking his gratitude by pushing his food around. “Thanks, Rafael. It’s just that being here at SVU feels right, you know? I don’t want to mess that up.”

Rafael knew that Carisi’s transfers from borough to borough were made largely for personal reasons; no one who’d worked with him for more than a week could doubt his dedication to the job. The last thing he’d want here in Manhattan would be to cause problems between his coworkers even if he wasn’t the source.

“There’s history,” Rafael said carefully, “and it has nothing to do with you. It’s on them to work it out. Remember, you can trust Sergeant Benson if you feel there’s a serious problem.”

“Right. It’s kind of new for me, people having my back and all.”

Rafael swallowed. “Carisi…”

“Is it alright if I stay here tonight?” Carisi asked before Rafael could add to his ill-advised confession. “I don’t wanna be in your way…”

“Make yourself at home,” he said, as if it could be that easy and, tonight, it was. He’d promised honesty, after all.

He watched Carisi eat, barely tasting his own food. It was possible he’d been wrong when he thought he had nothing to offer beyond his eye for tasteful fashion and the occasional spectacular orgasm. Nights like this, he could offer Carisi a safe place to vent, to simply exist without the pressure of a new precinct or the ordeals of an investigation.

The danger was in Rafael’s near certainty that Carisi would accept. This undefined arrangement between them would become real, and Rafael could either continue skimming the surface of what he desperately wanted or he could hold his breath and dive in.

As if he could sense how heavy the silence had become, Carisi sighed contentedly and stretcheed his back, relaxing into the moment. The weight he’d carried into Rafael’s apartment earlier tonight was gone and his grin was genuine when he looked over at Rafael.

“I know your secret,” he said, and Rafael’s heart tripped over its next beat. “You’re actually a sweet guy, Rafael.”

“Slander.”

“You just don’t want anyone to know it.” 

“You have no evidence.”

Carisi leaned against the back of the sofa, sitting on the cushion that remembered his weight when he wasn’t there. “Sure I don’t.”

The silence was no longer as stifling. Rafael considered all the work he could be doing right now, and then he met Carisi’s eyes across the length of the sofa and knew it would go unfinished tonight.

He took a deep breath and dived in.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Still very new to this fandom and these characters, and I'm always looking to meet and chat with fellow shippers, whether it's just to talk or swap ideas around. You can find me on [tumblr](http://hurricanekelleigh.tumblr.com/) or my [fandom twitter](https://twitter.com/glitterstorm).
> 
> I didn't have anyone to beta this story, either, so all mistakes are my own. ♥ I've picked up the barest hints of conversational Spanish living in different places and I make no assertions that my translations are the best.


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